


Awake, arise or be forever fallen

by caramel_sins



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: 1960s, Accidental Voyeurism, Alternate Universe - Historical, Catholicism, Cunnilingus, F/M, Masturbation, This is very blasphemous, Voyeurism, forgive for i have sinned, getting spicy during confession, im going to hell, priest kink?, thats a kink?, very very brief mention of self harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:47:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26048272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caramel_sins/pseuds/caramel_sins
Summary: “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.”“Confess.”“I have impure thoughts, Father.”“About who?”“You.”
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Rose Tico
Comments: 34
Kudos: 74
Collections: GingerRose Kink Weeks





	Awake, arise or be forever fallen

Hux spoke of damnation, of the temptation of the flesh. He spoke of the Devil and his wiles, of his servants who lived in the world and searched out the weak to turn them toward the Darkness and away from the Light of God. He spoke of burning, of falling into the flame, of the eternal torment of the sinful. He did not speak of Christ’s love or the glory of His redemption. He was in no mood for His forgiveness. He needed to be reminded of Satan and his power, he needed to fear the flames of Hell because temptation was before him. 

Father Hux gave his homily with passion and with fury as he stared at the object of his downfall, the Eve who offered him the fruit of knowledge. She looked so innocent, sitting amongst the other congregants. Her hair was twisted in a chignon, a small black pillbox hat on her head, with a veil that covered her eyes. Her black dress was demure, high-necked, and yet it was this innocence that made him smolder. Her sweetness was a lure, a false sense of security, her kind, dimpled, smile the agent of his damnation. Rose Tico was the most dangerous kind of sin. 

She was a deeply devout girl, a pendant of the Holy Mother always dangled between her breasts. She said her Hail Marys, knew her rosary by heart, made dinner for the priests, and taught Sunday school on occasion. She came to confession every single week with little transgressions to confess. _I used the Lord’s name in vain, I did not honor my mother and father, I spoke unkindly to my sister._ The confessions of a good girl, a sweet girl, a pious girl. Her little sins made him angry, made him seethe. He wanted to hear that she was angry, that she wanted things a good girl shouldn’t, that she had impure thoughts, that she touched herself at night with a hand over her mouth to stifle her moans. He wanted to whisper filth to her as she confessed her desires, her myriad of sinful fantasies. He wanted to burn in her temptation and punish her for it all the same. He wanted her to be damned as he was. No one should have to suffer alone.

****

The moment of his downfall was burned forever in his memory. Everytime he closed his eyes, everytime his mind wandered during prayer, every time he had a moment to contemplate his own sinfulness, he thought of that summer day. He could feel the heat of that day on his skin, he could smell the greenness of the grass, he could hear the insects chirp, and he could see her, bare from the waist up on a rock by a shimmering pond. 

The church grounds covered almost three acres of land. At one end was the church, the rectory and the cemetery; the rest was open fields and forest. On the opposite end of the church was a pond, a spring to be exact. It was an ancient place, home to other gods. The blue of it felt almost unnatural. He read that it was something to do with algae but he couldn’t quite remember what that meant. Since it was church land few knew of its existence and even fewer came to dip a toe in its icy waters. Hux enjoyed this aspect of it, he knew with some certainty he could enjoy the spring alone, that he could sit on the rock beside it and when the sun became too hot he could dive into the cool depths of its blue waters. It was one of the few earthly pleasures he had and he took advantage of it as often as he could.

On this day, the day of his fall, he knew rather quickly that he was not alone. As he walked the well worn path, his copper hair falling in his eyes, he could feel the presence of others in some primitive part of him. The hair stood up on the back of his neck above the collar of his shirt, the weight of this knowledge resting heavy on his skin. His heart sped up and he felt a lurch in his stomach. He felt like an animal cornered. The sounds of laughing voices echoed through the trees near the spring, reaching his ears. He heard a feminine shriek that turned into another peel of laughter. The sound of a radio playing accompanied it, twining together to form a hazy melody. 

_I don’t like you but I love you,_

_Seems that I’m always thinking of you,_

_You treat me badly, I love you madly_

_You really got a hold on me_

He crept toward the noise, already reticent to break the spell. He felt like some foolish knight sneaking up on sirens in a rocky cove, so much like a fantasy this was. And like sirens, the inhabitants of the spring were unparalleled in their sinful beauty, calling him to crash and burn on the rocks at their feet. He peered through the branches of the trees, hidden in their shade. Before him were Rey Johnson and Rose Tico both bare from the waist up on the rock by the spring, the one he had often sat himself. 

Rey lay on her stomach, back toward the rays of the sun. Golden light made her skin almost glow as it dipped into the navy polka dot swimsuit bottoms she wore. Her straight brown hair fell around her shoulders and her head rested on her folded arms as she looked over at her friend. She chatted excitedly over the music but Hux could not hear her words, too lost was he in the vision of Rose. 

She lay on the rock her back pressed against the warm stone, her inky black hair like a halo around her head. She wore similar bottoms to Rey, black and white polka dots as opposed to navy. The fabric clung to the curve of her hips, coming up to her waist, following the sensuous shape of her body. His eyes traveled along the path that it created, up the plains of her soft stomach over the expanse of her ribcage to the swell of her perfectly shaped breasts. They were so beautiful, so soft, so round, moving with the inhalation and exhalation of her breath. There was something strangely innocent about her nakedness like she was Eve and he was the serpent who wandered into the garden ready to corrupt her. She was magnificent in the golden glow of the sunlight, her skin like bronze in the rays. Eve made beautiful in Paradise.

_O sun, to tell thee how I hate thy beams, That bring to my remembrance from what state I fell._

Milton’s words came to him, unbidden. Did he curse the sun as Satan did, for reminding him of the divinity he had lost? Was he sinless before the beam of summer light fell on the beauty that God, Himself, created? Rose was surely divine in nature, created from all the beauty that God possessed. Or perhaps her allure came from the depths of Hell made only by Satan’s clever hand. She was something both dark and light. Her innocence was all the work of God and her body the work of the Devil. It was the only explanation. She was something beyond earthly comprehension. 

All of a sudden she sat up and leant forward, covering the beauty of her naked chest and exposing the expanse of her back. Even that was tantalizingly exquisite, the line of her spine creating a path to the swell of her well formed ass. She turned her head to Rey, eyes almost in line with where he stood. The movement shook him out of his reverie and his other senses returned. He heard the movement of water, the chirping of birds, the song on the radio drawing to a close.

_I want to leave you, don't want to stay here_

_Don't want to spend another day here_

_Oh, oh, oh, I want to split now, I can't quit now_

_You really got a hold on me_

He turned around quickly, backing away from temptation and toward the safety of the rectory. But safety was an illusion. He was safe no longer. No amount of prayer, no amount of punishment. no amount of fasting could make him forget the divine beauty of her body in the sunlight. Every moment of everyday his mind was haunted by the sight of her. 

That night, in a moment of weakness, he took himself in hand, thoughts of Paradise and temptation corrupting his very soul. 

****

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.” It was her. He knew that voice all too well, it haunted him night after night. The sound of it conjured images that fill his sleeping and waking hours. She has consumed him whole. 

“Confess, my child.” He replied, voice cold as he tried to make some distance between them.

Hux could not see her clearly, the screen obscured her face from view but he could see the outline of her, the burnt orange of her dress. He had seen her in the church yard, matching jacket around her shoulders, hat on her head. His eyes had been drawn to her, drawn to the way her clothes slid over the curves of her body. In the light of the autumn sun he could see her medallion glinting between her breasts, reminding him of her innocence, of the temptation of her purity. She was uncorrupted yet corruption in its most damning form.

“I disobeyed my father and mother, I spoke unkindly to my sister, and I told a lie.” She recited. He could have guessed it. They were all the sins a good Catholic girl confessed. Just minor infractions. It was the same thing every week. 

“Anything else?” He asked with a sigh. There was a long pause, he could hear her breath increase, feel a change in the air. There was tension that was not there before.

“I had impure thoughts.” She whispered, it sounded as if she was in pain, as if it took a lot out of her to say. He felt his heart stutter and heat rise in him. He leaned forward, intent on hearing every word.

“What were your thoughts?” He asked. He felt breathless. His blood pounded in his veins.

“I’d rather not say.” She replied demurely. That would not do.

“You must confess.” He pressed, using every bit of the authority he possessed to make her speak. 

“It was about a man. I thought of a man in a way that I should not.” The words came out of her in a flurry, on a long exhalation of air. He felt his cock stir.

“How?” His voice was low and quiet. He hoped she could not hear the desire there.

“How a woman should think of only her husband.” Her vagueness made him seethe. He needed to know exactly what she thought. He needed to supplement his own fantasies with hers. 

“Did you think of him touching you?” Hux thought of how _he_ would touch her, how _he_ would cup the swell of her breasts in _his_ hands, how _he_ would draw lines down the expanse of her smooth back. 

“Yes, Father.” She whispered. Did she know what this did to him? Did she know how every word she said pushed him further and further away from God’s light into the darkness of Hell?

“How, Rose?” He was so desperate to be damned. 

“Please don’t make me say it.” Her voice was a soft whimper. The sound of it made him harder. He delighted in her pain. What craven creature had he become? 

“You must. For the purity of your soul.” He lied. He was damned, surely and truly, now. And for the life of him, he did not care at all. He would give every bit of his soul over for one more lurid confession from her lips.

“God knows. He knows. I don’t need to tell you.” She replied defiantly, but her voice was shaky. He commended her for her virtuousness in the face of his depravity. But he no longer cared for virtue. He needed to hear her confession in full, without reservation. He knew she was weak to the power he wielded and he was more than happy to exploit that weaknesses 

“How can you receive absolution? I am His agent on earth here for that very purpose.” He was no more an agent of God than any man. The moment he saw her, bare by that spring, he had lost all claim to that title. What lies he told.

“God, help me.” She whispered. It sounded almost like a sob. 

“Confess, Rose.” 

“He has such beautiful hands, Father. And such a pretty mouth. I want them on me, on places they should not be. God, forgive me.” She panted, the force of her confession making her breath come quick. He wondered if this was the noise she made when in the throes of pleasure. He wondered if he could make her breath come like that with his hands and mouth. He wondered if she would cry out for him if he dared. 

“You must repent, Rose. Find solace in prayer and remain steadfast in your faith. God shall guide you.” They were all lies. Faith meant nothing anymore. Who was God but an obstacle? A means to stop him from taking what he wanted?

“Thank you, Father.” She whispered. 

_“Patrem et Filium et Spiritum Sanctum.”_ He gave the sign of the cross. 

_“Amen.”_ Was her soft reply.

****

They held an autumn themed gala not too long after Rose’s little confession. It was, ostensibly a fundraiser for the Pagan Baby Fund or the Sisters Of Perpetual Grace’s retirement fund. Who really knew? It was nebulous, just an excuse for a party in the beautiful old church hall. The little old ladies loved to decorate with orange leaves and twinkling lights. Hot cider was served and a dancefloor was erected in the middle of the old hall. The young people of the congregation enjoyed an excuse to get close to one another, swaying in time to the music the DJ selected. The diocese always liked money, no matter what it was for, and allowed for small indiscretions for the sake of lining their pockets. 

Most of the congregation had come, dressed in their finest. Rose was there, looking so beautiful it made Hux ache. She wore an emerald dress with a high boat neck, the back dipped down almost scandalously, revealing more skin than was strictly appropriate. He was sure he would hear about it from some old biddy who would go on and on about ‘girls these days.’ And with each word he would be reminded of the way the silky fabric of her dress hid and revealed so much to him. He would see the way the Holy Mother dangled between the curve of her breasts, as always. He would see the sweep of her dark hair in a small beehive, her short bangs swept a little to one side. He would see the warmth of her beautiful eyes complimented by the sharp curve of eyeliner on her lid. He would think of every detail and feel the torment of it. 

Others took notice of her beauty, swarming around her like bees to honey. At the start of every song she was on the dance floor with a new young man. He hated each and every one of them with a violent passion. He hated how their fingers brushed the bare skin of her back where her dress dipped. He hated how she smiled at them, laughed at the things they whispered in her ear. 

_I don’t like you but I love you,_

_Seems that I’m always thinking of you,_

_You treat me badly, I love you madly_

_You really got a hold on me_

The song came on, suddenly, shocking him with its arrival. Every note set his teeth on edge and made his blood heat. He could see her in the sun, her skin bronze in the light, the swell of her breasts calling to him. He could see her falling back on the rock, his face between her legs, taking the sacrament she gave him. Sweat began to bead along the back of his neck and trickle down the back of the camel sweater he wore. He felt like he was suffocating in the warm air of the church hall. 

He turned away from the dance floor and snuck out the side door. As soon as cold air hit him he sucked it in greedily, trying to calm his frayed nerves. He let the autumn breeze cool the sweat on his skin. He walked briskly away from the hall toward the space between the church and the cemetery. He pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket selecting one and popping it between his lips. He lit it, taking a long drag and looking out over the headstones and statues. It was dark, the only light was through the windows of the hall and the stars above. The graves were cast in shadow and the statues of the Virgin looked ghoulish in the darkness. It was macabre but beautiful, there was a peacefulness there among the graves. The silence was calming and he let it wash over him, attempting to make his mind go blank.

“Father Hux?” It was Rose, her voice soft in the late night silence. He winced at the sound of it, like she had slapped him in the face. How much longer could endure such torment? He tried to ignore her to pretend he did not hear her but she came up next to him and he could not help but look at her. 

“Father Hux, how are you?” She asked as she stepped closer to him, half of her face cast in shadow. Smoke billowed between them as he took another drag off his cigarette. 

“I’m fine, Rose. And you?” He answered. It was perfunctory, just enough to not seem rude. 

“Alright, a little chilly.” She replied with a smile as she wrapped the knobby grey cardigan, she had put on to block the autumn chill, tighter around her. They were silent for a moment, just looking at each other in the darkness. He couldn’t see her, really, couldn’t see the expression on her face. But he knew her eyes were trained on him. 

“I was wondering if you’d take my confession.” She broke the silence, her voice low and steady. The timbre of it sent a chill down his spine. He looked away sharply, taking another drag of his cigarette in an attempt to calm his racing heart. 

“You can’t wait until Sunday?” He asked. 

“No, this can’t wait.” Her tone was deadly serious and when he turned to look at her face he saw that she was still looking at him, eyes unblinking. 

“Alright.” He dropped his cigarette on the ground and crushed it with his heel, extinguishing the flame.

****

The church was dark and empty, the sound of their breathing and the clack of their shoes on the floor were the only noises bouncing off the cold stone walls. Hux flicked the switch and lights illuminated the altar. He didn’t turn the ones on in the main body of the church, he didn’t want anyone to know they were in there alone. He didn’t want to be interrupted. 

Silently they made their way to the confessional. They did not look at each other, they did not speak, they just walked quickly and steadily toward their destination afraid that any acknowledgement would break whatever spell they were under. Before they entered their respective sides they glanced once at each other, eyes connecting for a split second. It was as if the earth stood still for them, everything was silent, everything was resting on a tightly drawn string. The deep brown of her eyes met the watery green of his and there was nothing but the breaths they shared in the cold and empty church. And then they looked away.

The confessional had never felt so small. Hux was a tall man but he was thin, he folded easily into cramped spaces. Every Sunday he sat in that booth for hours on end and he never felt like the walls were closing in, he never felt like his body was too large for the timber box he occupied. Tonight it felt as if he were in an ornate coffin, alive but just barely.

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.” Her voice was low and steady. She seemed oddly calm, far calmer than he was. His pulse spiked in his throat and he felt the flutter of his heart in his chest. 

“Confess.” His voice was steadier than he felt. 

“I have impure thoughts, Father.” Her voice was low, quiet, but not a whisper. There was too much confidence in her tone for that. 

“About who?” He asked. 

“You.” He swallowed, his hands shook. He scratched at the skin of his wrist until he drew blood. Now he knew he wasn’t dreaming. 

“What are the nature of your thoughts?” He asked, voice eerily calm. In this moment he accepted his damnation, welcomed it with open arms. 

“You have such nice hands, Father Hux, and a nice mouth. I want them on me.” Rose’s voice was so low now, so sensual, it was like she was a different woman. Gone was her sweet innocence replaced by a dark knowing. It was as if she bit the fruit and all the knowledge of sin and pleasure was before her. She was resplendent in her power.

“You must stop these thoughts.” He didn’t mean it but he knew there was a game to be played and he would play the part he was given. 

“I’ve tried but they just come back.” Her voice was breathy, soft, he had to lean close to the screen to hear her. He could feel the warmth of her breath on the shell of his ear through the barrier. He imagined he could feel her lips there too. 

“How have you tried?” He asked, his voice husky with lust. 

“I’d rather not say.” Now she demurred. _Now_ her innocence had returned. He wanted to scream but he just pressed her, helped her along.

“Did you touch yourself, Rose?” He heard her gasp, the sound made his cock harden. He was desperate to hear that noise again.

“Yes, Father.” She whispered. Her hand came up to the screen, fingers digging into the holes, the tips of them coming through to his side. He leant forward lips brushing up against them, feeling the soft skin of her hand against his eager mouth. He heard her sharp intake of breath and felt her hands dig in further, reaching out to him through the barrier. 

“Did you like it? Do you like touching yourself?” He needed to know. He needed to know if the fingers that brushed up against his lips brought her pleasure. 

“Yes.” She replied.

“Did you think of me?” He asked. 

“Yes, Father Hux. Only you.” She whimpered. He groaned as he felt his cock stiffen further at her words. 

“What are we going to do about this, Rose?” The question was a desperate one, he begged her for guidance. She would give none. Wasn’t he supposed to lead? Wasn’t he the shepherd with a flock? But he cared little for sheep and even less for guiding them. He wanted to be free of everything except his desire for Rose.

“I don’t know,” was her soft reply. 

“I think you should touch yourself again. I think you need to show me where you went wrong.” There was a long silence. For a moment the only sound between them was Rose’s labored breathing and the blood pumping in Hux’s ears. He wondered if he had gone too far, if they had reached the end of her tether and she would be yanked back into reality. He prayed to God that was not the case.

“Alright. Tell me what to do.” Her voice was steady again, determined. Relief washed over him and he took control once more.

“Lift up your dress.” He commanded. He heard the rustle of the fabric as she shimmied it up her legs. Through the screen he saw emerald green give way to the soft glow of her skin. She was just broken up color, her details undefinable. He could see her move, see her body shift but could not tell how she sat, could not see the expression on her face. His mind supplied what his eyes could not see. In his mind she sat on the bench, legs spread, the glory of her bare cunt exposed.

“I’m ready, Father.” She whispered. The soft sound of her voice made his cock twitch.

“Good girl. Now I want you to touch yourself, like you do at home, when you think of me.” He heard her gasp and shift on the bench. 

“Yes, Father Hux.” She replied on a moan. He heard her shift again and then the soft wet noise of her fingers running through the slick of her dripping cunt. He heard her breath come out in harsh little gasps and soft whimpers. He was desperate to see her, to feel her, but he did not move from his spot. Part him was afraid to move, afraid that it would all end if he so much as lifted a finger.

“How does it feel?” He asked. She let out a sharp cry at the sound of his voice, and then a long moan. The power of it sent shocks through his body and he had to grip the seat of the bench to keep himself from spilling in his trousers. He had never been so aroused in all his life.

“It feels so good, Father Hux.” She whimpered. He could see her move faster, could see her body shift. In his mind she slipped a finger inside herself, curling it against the walls of her pussy. 

“See how sinful you are, Rose.” He told her. He wanted her to feel the weight of their transgression, to feel the power of it. Who was God before this pleasure? 

“Yes. Please forgive me.” Her voice was a desperate whine, one that spoke of sinful defiance, not regret. She was lying, another sin to add to this confession. He knew she did not want forgiveness, she did not want absolution for this. She wanted him, she wanted his hands on her body, his mouth on her skin. And he wanted to give her exactly what she desired. 

“Only God can forgive you for this, Rose.” His face was pressed up against the screen, desperate to hear every noise that fell from her lips, every wet sound her fingers made as they passed over her core.

“Oh God!” She moaned. The sound of her desperation broke what little control he had left and he gripped himself through the rough fabric of his trousers. He palmed his erection lightly, trying to ease the ache a bit without tipping over the edge. He hissed at the pleasure, earning another gasp from her lips.

“Does it feel good?” He asked. His voice was rough, like he had swallowed hot coals.

“Yes, Father Hux, it feels so good.” He heard wood creaking as her movements became more frantic and her cries became louder and longer. He watched through the screen, seeing how she writhed, her arm up over her head, hand clutching the ornate carvings behind her. 

“Are you going to come?” He asked. She was quiet for a bit, the only noise the squelching of her cunt and the harsh gasps coming out of her throat. 

“I don’t know...oh God...I need...I need…” she sounded frustrated, almost angry in her desperation.

“What do you need?” He begged. He would give it to her, whatever she needed. The stars, the earth, the oceans, Paradise itself, he would give it all to her.

“You! Please, oh God, I need you.” How easy it was to give that to her. He needn’t wrestle a star from the sky or corral the enormity of an ocean he only had to give her something she already possessed: him, all of him. He moved quickly, throwing back the curtain to the confessional. No sight in Heaven or in Hell could compare to the one that awaited him. Rose, his beautiful Rose, was Paradise itself, the celestial city on the lowly kingdom of earth. Her legs were splayed open, skirt around her waist, face flushed, black hair dangling from her formerly smooth updo, full lips parted, cheeks flush, and fingers buried deep in the glory of her soaking wet cunt.

“Please, Hux.” She whimpered as she stared up at him, warm brown eyes wide in desperation.

Hux fell to his knees before her, a supplicant at her altar. He was never so happy to be on his knees. With a prayer on his lips he leant forward and took the sacrament from her, tasting the nectar between her legs. She sobbed as his tongue met her flesh, hands buried in his hair. 

“Thank you, my love, thank you.” She gasped as he ran his tongue through her, lapping at her clit with fanatical desperation. He looked up at her as he worshiped, eyes trained on the beauty of her face in ecstasy. She looked like the Madonna, eyes cast down at her loyal servant with loving benevolence, face flushed with the beauty of divinity. Tears rolled down her pink cheeks as she fell to the pleasure he gave her, grateful for his faithful invocation. Her hand shot out, digging into the copper threads of his hair, holding him to her, making him give her every last bit of his devotion. 

“God, forgive me,” she choked out as she came, body shaking with the force of it, her eyes rolling heavenward as she begged for divine love. Sweetly, gently, she tugged at his hair, pulling him away from the salvation of her dripping cunt.

“There is nothing to forgive,” Hux whispered as he kissed her open mouth. She met him with a bruising force, taking in the tongue that had given her so much pleasure. 

“This is sin, Hux.” She gasped as he kissed along the column of her neck. She said it as if they would see reason, as if they would turn away from what they had started. But neither of them made a move to stop, to prevent their fall from Grace. Instead they pulled and tugged at the things that bound them to morality and fell further and further into blissful damnation. 

“Only the gentlest of sins, God will forgive.” He replied, not believing a single word that fell from his own lips. Rose did not believe it either but it did not stop her from pulling him free of his sweater and letting her dress fall from her shoulders. 

“Who is God if he denies me this?” She cried out as his lips found the taught sensitive nub of her nipple, head falling back as he worshiped her with more reverence than he ever gave his Heavenly Father.

“I would deny you nothing. The kingdom of Heaven is yours.” He groaned as he entered her, the warmth of her tight cunt making him see the cosmos behind his closed eyes. She held him, held his shaking body to hers. She felt the thrum of his heart and answered it with her own. 

“You could not give it to me. I would not want it. I’ve only ever wanted you.” She gasped as her own body shook, another peak taking hold of her.

“I am yours. God help me, I am yours.” He moaned as he spilled inside her, lost in the Paradise of her touch. 

They floated in the haze of ecstasy, somewhere in a state of Grace. Rose kissed him, pulling him close again, wrapping her arms around him. He had never felt as close to God as he did now. Though he had transgressed, though he had fallen to the deepest pits of depravity, he had felt the glory of the Divine in the pleasure of the flesh. 

_Why then was this forbid? Why but to awe; Why but to keep you low and ignorant, His worshippers._

Milton’s words on Satan’s lips came to him again. In _Paradise Lost_ it is the moment Satan, as the serpent, convinced Eve to eat from the tree. It is the moment he used his clever tongue, his tempting words, to turn her from the light and she did, willingly with a moan of pleasure on her lips. Why didn’t Satan tell her that this was Heaven? That the knowledge he gave her, the pleasure she received, was Salvation? For what could be better than to love and be loved? What could God offer Hux that was greater than the touch of Rose’s hand, the feel of her lips on his skin, the tight squeeze of her body around him? He was damned, surely, but at least he knew Heaven, at least he knew joy. 

Slowly, so very slowly, Rose pushed him away. It was a gentle rejection, a mirror of her innocent sweetness. The softness of her touch spoke of more to come, not an irrevocable distancing. She stood, body stretching, as she pulled her dress up, covering the divine expanse of her bare skin. Hux stood as well, and walked up behind her, kissing the knot of her spine. His hands came up to the zipper of her dress and pulled it, reluctantly, helping her. She lifted her hand in thanks, bringing it around to stroke the back of his neck and keep him close. 

“I wanted to dance with you, you know. But you never came to ask.” She confessed into the empty void of the church. She stepped away from him and took the remaining pins out of her hair, letting the waves of it fall around her. She deftly gathered it up once again, twisting it back into the position it had been in before her debauchery, placing the pins back with blind assurance. Hux marveled at her skill, transfixed by the movement of her hands. She turned toward him, eyes searching his face as her hand lifted to stroke his cheek.

“You know I couldn’t.” He replied, voice strained. He wanted to, he desperately wanted to, but even he understood it was too risky. 

Rose watched him as he pulled his sweater over his head, hiding the pale expanse of his chest from her. Hux hated how he could not see her face for the split second his sweater fell over his eyes. If he was given the choice he would look at her forever, lost in the beauty she radiated. He felt a certain kind of relief when he righted the garment and could see her face again. She looked up at him and smiled, placing a delicate hand on his cheek as she pulled his face down to hers. She kissed him softly, lips pliant under his. 

“Would you dance with me now?” She asked against his mouth. He pulled away a little, a furrow in his brow as he looked down at her. 

“There’s no music.” He protested. She smiled, dimples creasing her cheek. 

“I’ll sing. You just hold me close.” She commanded, and he could not help but obey.

She held a delicate hand out to him. He took it bringing his arm around her waist and pulling her body flush against his. He felt the warmth of her breath on his neck, the beat of her heart through her breasts. He felt the fragile humanity of her and it was nothing like he had ever felt and would ever feel again. His hand covered the expanse of her back, touching the skin that the dip of her dress exposed. For a moment he was just a man and she was just a woman, and they were two lovers dancing.

_“I don’t like you but I love you,_

_Seems that I’m always thinking of you,_

_You treat me badly, I love you madly_

_You really got a hold on me”_

Her voice was warm and full and he could feel it rumble out of her as she sang to him. They drifted aimlessly around the floor of the church, dancing slowly to the song she sang. He dipped his head, kissing the space behind her ear, smelling the sweetness of her lavender perfume. He felt her smile against him, just the lift of her cheek as she rested hit on his chest. He could hear a small falter in her voice as his lips moved down the column of her throat.

_“I don't want you, but I need you_

_Don't want to kiss you, but I need to_

_Oh, oh, oh, you do me wrong now_

_My love is strong now you really got a hold on me”_

She looked up at him, a brilliant smile on her face, he returned it, trying desperately to commit the sight to memory. Every image he had of her was dipped in gold, one more beautiful than the last, but her smile was more precious than all of them combined. He felt his heart ache at the sight of it.   
  


_“I want to leave you, don't want to stay here_

_Don't want to spend another day here_

_Oh, oh, oh, I want to split now, I can't quit now_

_You really got a hold on me, you really got a hold_

_I love you and all I want you to do is just hold me, please”_

It hurt him to hear the song come to a close, to know that she would leave him alone again. To be parted from her felt like a punishment, like retribution for their sins. He did not want to feel that punishment just yet. He wanted to stay with her, be near her, feel the warmth of her skin under his hands. But she pulled away from him, taking the heat of her skin with her. 

“Goodnight, my love.” Rose whispered as she kissed him goodbye. He wanted to command her to stay, to come home with him, to lay in the cold empty bed of his and make it warm. He knew it was all impossible but he still wanted it. 

“I don’t want to say goodbye to you.” He confessed as he pulled her close again. She nuzzled against him, wrapping her arms around his waist, holding him tight. After a moment she let him go and picked up her cardigan from the floor. She pulled it on, wrapping it around her like armor, shielding herself from the pain of parting. She turned to leave, looking back at him with a sad smile.

“Then don’t.” She whispered as she opened the ancient doors of the church and walked out into the cold night air. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I’m going straight to hell! Hope you enjoyed the instrument of my damnation!
> 
> The song is Smokey Robinson & the Miracle’s “You’ve Really Got A Hold On Me”
> 
> https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=AdDnqSFYXFs


End file.
